With heavy heart I sigh Sipping my tears, I laugh For I fear another goodbye I stand with my heart split into half Destiny has always been this cruel to me Sipping my tears, I laugh Why can't this agony cease to be I wish my life was something to adore Destiny has always been this cruel to me I wonder if you will turn out like this too, never you swore Love was an enemy, an enemy that I couldn’t fight I wish my life was something to adore I can't find any hope, any light You said to see within me, you'll find Love was an enemy, an enemy that I couldn’t fight The world was not kind, no it wasn’t kind With heavy heart I sigh With no hope, no love I couldn’t find For I fear another goodbye

Do you guys read poetry only in English or are there any other languages that you read poetry in? Also the same question for writing poetry as well :))))

"ہستی کا اثبات اور عدم کا راز ایک ہے دل سے دل تک سفرِ جاوداں ہے" Transliteration: "Hasti ka asbaat aur adam ka raaz aik hai Dil se dil tak safar-e-jawdaan hai" Translation: "The affirmation of existence and the secret of non-existence are one; From heart to heart runs the eternal journey." Would love to hear insights on this couplet of Mirza Asadullah Ghalib :)))) let's dive into different perspectives P.S: (Hum-pesha-o-hum-mashrab-o-humraaz hai mera Ghalib ko bura kyun kaho achha meray aage )

Do you think that names hold a certain importance in life? What do you think of yours? And do you really connect with your name? If given a chance would you choose your current name again? P. S: I named myself when I was still a baby ;) Don't ask how lol 💀

There he was again, as he had promised. Dark reigns over the sky and the crescent’s curl is hidden by the clouds. The sea is awake. For she, as if already knew that he was coming. Her heart hurts and with fear her waves grow larger and larger. She trembles and tenses. The air seems to suffocate her. The man comes. She waited a long while for him to come. He doesn’t sob, for his eyes have been tired and his sight weakened. He tells the sea, his story. Tonight the sea intently listens to his rant and picks a pen and writes on her skin to tell the tale. She cries at his misfortune and wails at his doom. The man stands and comes near the sea, the sea fears what he is about to do and what she has to see. It tries to take its waves back but is not able to do so. The man slowly steps into the waves and moves closer and closer. She tries to push him, but he is firm. At last she screams but the work is done. She submerges the crime, rather a sin, hiding it underneath. For him is laid a bed of beads. His body rests on his tears; the pearls. The sea weeps and cries. The moon shines on his face, as his body hugs the ground. It’s midnight and she tries to sleep and not weep any longer. But how can she sleep when she knows that inside her resides he, to always remind her of the dead poetry.